


carnation

by ackermanx



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, i hate this game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15180431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ackermanx/pseuds/ackermanx
Summary: caro returns, ten years later





	carnation

**Author's Note:**

> 1) the title comes from carnation by himmel, from the game voez. it's super pretty and i felt like it fit so? give it a listen if y'all want to
> 
> 2) (chants at the top of my lungs) fix it fic! fix it fic! fix it fic! what am I fixing? the event ending? my own heart? I guess we'll never know

Elta is restless.

He's always been this way, make no mistake. But it's been getting worse lately, to the point where only playing his instrument can calm him down.

The most embarassing part? Elta knows exactly why he's been raring to accompany Djeeta on various job requests, and he suspects that everyone else on the Grandcypher knows as well.

It's only been half a year since they've left Perfetto Island, but Elta is still holding out hope that he'll come across Caro again.

Today the Grandcypher is in flight, so Elta has no choice but to restrict his wanderings to places on deck. He lets his feet operate on autopilot; given this new freedom, they tread the familiar route to Selfira's room.

One light knock. Two light knocks.

"Oh - yes, I'm coming!" Selfira yells from inside. "Sorry, sorry, I was just about to start practicing - "

She flings open the door, then does a double take at Elta's figure in the doorway. "Good evening? Did you want to join me?"

"Huh? If you'll let me, sure, I'll go back to my room and grab my cello, but…I actually wanted to ask you a question."

Elta ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, suddenly unsure as to how wise of a decision this is going to be. Selfira simply watches him, one hand on the doorframe and the other fiddling with the ends of her hair.

"Can we go back to Perfetto?" Elta finally blurts out. "I - obviously not right now, but once every year, maybe, to perform something? There's residents there that are musicians but I want to honor Arte - I mean, Caro - "

"Elta. You're rambling."

"Am I? Sorry about that."

"No, no, don't you start apologizing. You don't usually ramble like that, though...this is important to you, isn't it?"

"Would you believe me if I said it wasn't that big of a deal?"

"No, I wouldn't."

Selfira breaks out into a large but gentle smile and pats Elta on the back. "Don't look so nervous. We've still got half a year to go; everything will work out by then, I promise. I'll even pinky swear."

"A-Ah, don't worry, I believe you!"

Elta laughs - a small and weak laugh, but one nonetheless. It's the first relaxed expression that he's had all day, so. Selfira thinks that she can count it as a personal victory.

"Look at you," Elta continues. "I remember when I was the one trying to reassure you that everything would be fine. Now you're the one trying to reassure me!"

"You give me too much credit," Selfira laughs "Now come on, get your cello. We've got a concert to prepare for."

 

* * *

 

The moment that the ship touches down on Perfetto, Elta feels a sweeping sense of relief.

He clutches the strap of his cello's case tighter in excitement, swiveling his head left and right to take in all the sights. Perfetto now is nothing like the state of ruin that the Grandcypher and its crew had left it in a year ago. There's a highly reinforced fence around the town to take the brunt of any possible future disasters. The town itself is like new - new, sturdier-looking buildings in place of the old ones, brightly blooming flowers in every conceivable place.

A shining, obviously recently erected statue of Caro.

Djeeta steps off of the ship right after Elta, giggling at his wonderous expression. "Nice, isn't it? This is what it used to be like, the one time that we came here before the landslide. You and Selfira'll fit right in."

"There's so much _activity_ ," Elta breathes. "I want to explore it all - oh, but where are we going to be staying? How much do I owe you?"

"You owe me absolutely nothing, and I have no idea where we're staying."

Elta can't help but raise an eyebrow; even though Djeeta has no clear plan of action, she doesn't sound put off in the least. "Should we walk around town until we find a cheap place, then?"

Djeeta shrugs, an embarrassed grin flitting across her face. "At least it's a plan. I'll get the others?"

"I'll find Selfira. See you in a bit!"

 

* * *

 

The moment that Lyria skips into town, the group is greeted with open arms.

"Hey, Elta! Djeeta! Kid!"

A stocky draph waves them down, and Djeeta waves back with similar enthusiasm. "Nice to see you again! The ceramic worker, right?"

"You do remember! See, I've got to tell my wife that you're in town, she'd love to say hello. She's the, uh, the painter? You know?"

Wincing, Djeeta shakes her head. "Sorry, can't say that I do. I'm sure that once I see her, though, I'll remember!"

"Yeah, maybe that description was a little too vague. Listen, you guys stay here, I gotta tell Archie you're in. He's gonna be more than happy to offer a place to stay."

"Oh, but we couldn't - "

"Oh, but we insist. Be right back!"

They stare at the draph's retreating form, feeling a mild sense of whiplash from the interaction.

"Well," Katalina says to break the silence. "At least we're still welcome here."

Things only get get busier after that. Archie comes to "hook the gang up" with rooms, during which Elta and Selfira find themselves something like local celebrities. They're stopped every minute or so by people inquiring after their health, their performances, the upcoming concert.

"Is it true?" the artist from their last visit asks eagerly. "Are you really putting on a show tonight?"

"Your attitude sure has improved from last time, huh?" Vyrn pipes up. The artist has enough good grace to look abashed, rubbing the back of his neck in shame.

"Yeah…my son's gotten me back into painting. I've even made one of my wife to hang by the doorway, do you want to see?"

Selfira opens her mouth - hesitates - looks to Elta for guidance. He nods encouragingly in response, and she turns back to the artist.

"I'd love to see it, actually. After the concert?"

"Of course! Speaking of the concert, me and my son will be there to cheer you on. Good luck up there!"

Surprised, Selfira shoots Elta a look with her eyes as wide open as they can go.

Lyria waves at the man until he's out of sight, then turns around to beam at the rest of the group.

"I think we'll be fine here this time! It feels so much safer to me!"

 

* * *

 

The day passes by quickly, packed with sightseeing and visiting old acquaintances, and soon enough Elta and Selfira find themselves standing in town square, in front of the statue of Caro, instruments in hand.

Their performance is short, more like a sideshow than a full-blown concert. They start off with the song that they had performed the first time that they were here; it transitions neatly into two short, upbeat jigs that brings all the townspeople to the square, laughing and twirling each other in circles in some semblance of a dance.

Elta takes the chance to scan the crowd as he and Selfira near the end of the song. He doesn't know what compela him to look ( _maybe Caro will be there_ ) or who he's looking for ( _of course it's Caro, it's always Caro_ ), but he does make eye contact with the artist's son.

He flashes a thumbs up, Elta grins in response. His fingers slide up the neck of his cello, changing the key of the song and slowing his bowstrokes, and he watches as the boy (and most of everyone else) widens his eyes in recognition.

Caro's lullaby.

Elta had agonized for a good three months over that one song alone. He had taught himself how to read sheet music for the sole purpose of being able to transcribe it onto paper, making sure that it would be accessible to many future generations. He had added a little of his own content in to increase the length of the song, if only for performance purposes. He had even written a violin part when Selfira found out what he was doing and wanted in on the action.

Now, he leans his head back, closes his eyes, and lets the music take him where it wants to. The higher notes of Selfira's violin blend in perfectly with Elta's cello, and -

It might be wishful thinking, but Elta swears that he can hear Caro's voice in the breeze, singing along softly.

The last note hangs in the air with a gentle vibrato from both players. The crowd breaks out into thunderous applause, somehow only getting louder when Elta and Selfira stand up, bow, and leave the stage.

"I've got to go," Elta says as soon as he doesn't need to shout to be heard. "You can go with the artist if you want, but there's something that I have to do."

"Right _now_? But…we don't leave until tomorrow afternoon. And you're not going to drop off your cello first?"

"Caro's workshop. I want to visit Caro's workshop."

"Isn't it all dusty and covered with vines by now?" Selfira squints at Elta's apologetic stance, as if she could read his mind if she concentrated enough "You're sure you want to go?"

"I, uh. Want to clean it up. In case he does decide to come back. No one wants to return to a dusty house, do they?"

_And it brings back memories. Memories of things that I never want to forget._

"Ah," Selfira simply says, a disturbingly knowing look in her eyes. "Go, then. Just make sure not to sleep over, because I don't want Djeeta to get unnecessarily worried."

"Okay!" Elta nearly yells in excitement, before he remembers himself and lowers his volume to a more reasonable level. "Okay, I'll get going. I'll see you later!"

He only stays for long enough to watch Selfira wave at him one last time, then half-walks half-jogs on the road to Caro's workshop.

Selfira is right - the road is infested with monsters, and when Elta finally arrives, the small residence is practically hidden from sight with vines and extremely long tree branches. It's good, then, that Elta has had basic swordfighting lessons from various people on deck, because he manages to either charm or kill the monsters and has no problem hacking away dead tree residue.

What's left feels far too empty and lifeless for the living quarters of the primal beast of art.

It's not dusty at all, thankfully. But Elta walks around the place anyway, touching the wall in places where Caro's own paintings used to hang, wishing that there was something /more/ that he could do to fill the emptiness in his heart.

"Hey," he says out loud. And immediately feels stupid, _it's not like Caro can hear me, right?_

"Hey," he tries again. "Sorry about trespassing. But even though we only knew each other for a few short weeks, the time spent in your company felt more like home than anything else has. And…I guess this is just my way of trying to pay you back for that by making sure that your home will feel like a home when you come back."

Elta finds a stool and drags it to the center of the room. He sets up his cello, re-tuning it, then takes a deep breath and sets his bow on the strings.

"Thank you," he whispers, before playing the quieter, original version of Caro's lullaby.

(In the end he does fall asleep. The next day, Djeeta only manages to retain her angry expression for a few seconds before hugging Elta tightly and telling him she's glad he's okay.)

 

* * *

 

The same thing happens every year. Rackam drops off Elta and Selfira at Perfetto, they take two days to catch up with everyone and perform, Elta busies himself with tidying up Caro's place and plays a song or two before he leaves.

It's been ten years, not that Elta's been counting. Still no sign of Caro.

Elta's patient. He refuses to give up hope, even when he begins to get strange looks from his other crewmates. He can't give up hope, because what else is left after hope?

"Hey, you okay?"

Selfira's bow flickers in and out of Elta's vision, snapping him back to reality. "H-Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine!"

He watches Selfira go through the familiar motions of getting ready to play. Tightening her bow, adjusting her shoulder rest, applying rosin onto the bow. Maybe it's the four hours of sleep he got last night catching up to Elta, but he feels like this is happening to some other version of himself, in some parallel universe.

 _Maybe I should get ready too,_  he belatedly thinks, but can't help scanning the crowd one last time.

And feels his heart stutter in his chest when he catches sight of an all-too-familiar green hat.

"Selfira!" Elta calls, not daring to take his eyes off of the barely visible figure in the distance. This isn't a dream, this is real -

Elta blinks. Caro is gone.

Selfira looks over, a mildly worried look in her eyes. "Elta? Are you sure you're okay? We can sit this year out, I don't think that anyone will mind too much."

"No!" Elta blurts out. He blinks again, noticing Selfira's odd expression, and grins at her in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. "I mean, no, I'm perfectly fine, let's give it our all this year, yeah?"

There's that look again. But Elta doesn't mind this time; he knows what he saw, and he's going to make sure that all of his emotions are available through his music, because all those years of practicing and performing?

It all feels like they led up to this one specific moment.

Elta closes his eyes. Sets his bow on the string. Feels rather than hears the music flowing out of his instrument, and keeps the image of that one green hat in his mind.

 

* * *

 

He's making his routinely trek to Caro's workshop when he hears it - his name being called.

"Elta! Elta, wait - " is all that Caro can manage to say before he's tackled to the ground in a forceful hug.

"You _are_  here," Elta mumbles into Caro's shirt. "I knew I wasn't seeing things! But how? I kept hoping, but I never really expected that…you would really…"

"I can't say that I know either. Maybe it was the islanders and their renewed belief, and your playing, and…something else? It renewed my energy so I can be here."

Caro hesitantly places his hands on the small of Elta's back. "I don't think I have enough energy restored to be able to do anything else, though. The primal beast of art, unable to make any art. How ironic."

"Come with me, then," Elta says, only half releasing his hold on Caro. "You don't need to do anything, just listen for a bit."

"Oh? Are you going to play for me?"

"Yeah! Well, um, it sounds more embarassing when I say it out loud, but…yeah."

"I must say, I'm looking forward to this. You've improved so much over the last few years."

Elta just flushes lightly and grabs Caro's hands.

Caro laughs and lets himself be pulled along.

His workshop is surprisingly neat this time around - Caro must have stopped by to straighten it out before he went to the performance. Elta pulls a chair to the middle of the room - the same chair that he always uses - and Caro pulls a stool of his own seemingly out of nowhere.

"I," Elta starts, then suddenly feels self-conscious and finishes his sentence while staring at the ground. "I made something for when you'd come back. It's a mashup of your song and…and mine…"

He trails off and picks up his cello from the ground.

Caro nods encouragingly.

Elta brings his bow to the frog, ghosts it across the strings, and it begins.

Wonder, and sadness. Loneliness without being alone. Being on Perfetto for so long and getting to know so many artists, but watching them all die and new generations come forth because what is a mortal's life to that of a primal?

Trying to help. Realizing that nothing can be done.

Tiredness.

Hope.

Energy and strength, slowly regained. Feeling belief slowly returning to those that had scorned your name before. Feeling whole again. Being able to reach people again, being able to fill them with joy again. The _wanting_.

Wanting to be there, more than ever. Wanting to come back.

Wanting to love again.

The room is deathly silent, neither person daring to break the spell that Elta had woven. Elta finally lifts his head, daring to make eye contact with Caro, and what he's really not expecting to see is the raw emotion that's in the other man's eyes.

"That was…beautiful," Caro whispers, sounding rather choked. He scoots his stool a little closer to Elta, wincing at the scraping noise it makes, and half-sobs, half-laughs on one of Elta's arms. "I really…I really am lucky to have you to love, am I?"

Elta lays his cello back down to get a better grip on Caro. "You know, I always thought that I'd be the one saying that to you."

Caro laughs one more time.

"You aren't going to leave after this, are you?" Elta says quietly. "I…"

"No. No more. I'll be here, I'll be with you for as long as I can."

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me on Twitter @axlotlols i hate gbf


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